


Prelude in E Minor

by highflyerwings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Kissing, Season/Series 05 Spoilers, Self-cest, dream fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 19:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highflyerwings/pseuds/highflyerwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer comes to Sam in a dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prelude in E Minor

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose I should note that this is sort of a companion piece to my fic "Riddles in the Dark." It's not a sequel, so you don't need to read that one first, but it sort of carries on the same concept of vessels that I started in that one.

  
Sam stands on the shore of a white beach, the sand warm and soft underneath his bare feet. He wiggles his toes deeper, digging them into the cooler sand beneath. He gazes out across the vast, blue ocean that reaches towards the curve of the horizon and melts seamlessly into the pale blue of the sky.   
  
It’s mid-morning; the sun is still rising, bright and perfect above him. The waves rock against the shore in a steady, soothing rhythm that makes Sam sigh. He’s completely relaxed. The sun on his face is warm and he closes his eyes. He breathes deeply, the smell of the ocean overwhelming him as the soft breeze breathes it against him, ruffling his hair lightly. He’s never felt so content in all his life. All he wants is to be here, on this beach, just like this, forever.   
  
"I'm dreaming, aren’t I,” Sam asks, because he knows someone is standing next to him.   
  
"Of course."   
  
Sam recognizes the voice immediately. He should be angry. He should probably be a lot of things, but here it doesn’t really matter so much.   
  
"It's beautiful here," Sam says instead. He opens his eyes and takes another deep breath. The smell of the ocean always was his favorite. The water is so blue; it’s crystalline and perfectly still, except for where the white crests of the waves roll and crash softly against one another along the shoreline.   
  
"Where are we?” Sam asks, still staring out over the water.   
  
"You don't know?"   
  
Sam shakes his head a little and shrugs, "I never dream about places I've been."   
  
The only sound Sam can hear is the rush of the waves. There are no birds, no other animals, no people...Just Sam and the man at his side.   
  
"I like it here,” Sam says finally.   
  
"You do."   
  
It’s never a question. Always an affirmation of what Sam’s just said, like he already knows what Sam’s going to say, but let’s him speak anyway just because he wants to hear Sam say it.   
  
Sam hasn’t actually looked at him yet. He doesn’t need to. There's nothing particularly extraordinary about him here; here he's just a man. Like Sam.   
  
But Sam glances to his left anyway, and looks at the man standing next to him.   
  
Lucifer is facing the water, his head tilted to one side. He’s frowning a little, watching the waves as if they’re trying to tell him something only he can’t quite understand what they’re saying. Maybe he can understand them though. Maybe angels can understand waves. Sam thinks they probably can.   
  
So he asks.   
  
“What are they saying?”   
  
“What?”   
  
“The waves. What are they saying?”   
  
Lucifer just looks at him, the corners of his mouth tugging up slightly in a fond smile.   
  
“Why are you here?” Sam asks then, curious.   
  
“Because I want to be.”   
  
“That’s it?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“I find that hard to believe.”   
  
“Why, Sam?”   
  
“You’re Lucifer. ‘The Devil,’ or...whatever.”   
  
“I am,” he nods.   
  
“Stop doing that.”   
  
“Doing what?” Lucifer looks confused. Sam wonders if all angels are confused by humanity.   
  
Probably.   
  
Sam is.   
  
“Making me feel like I’m always stating the obvious. It’s annoying. This is my dream; my words are important.”   
  
“They are,” Lucifer concedes.   
  
“Stop it!” Sam laughs.   
  
Lucifer smiles softly...kindly...“Sorry.”   
  
“That’s okay.” Sam looks back at the ocean and closes his eyes. It really is okay. The sun feels good against his face, and he likes the way everything still looks so bright and warm behind his closed eyes.   
  
“How did you find me this time?” He asks.   
  
“I can feel you now...when you’re on the verge of sleep. You reach for me without ever realizing it, Sam.”   
  
“Oh.” He likes the way Lucifer says his name.   
  
“It’s a soft tug around the middle.” Lucifer reaches out and runs the backs of his fingers on his right hand along the small of Sam’s back.   
  
Sam opens his eyes and turns his gaze to Lucifer, to look a little more closely at the man he’s wearing. He’s attractive, but lost and sloppy, like Lucifer doesn’t know how to take care of him properly. Or doesn’t care to. But then maybe that’s just the way he looked when Lucifer got him. He looks good though, in the sunlight--warm and easy....human.   
  
“So, this isn’t what you really look like,” Sam gestures to Lucifer’s body.   
  
Lucifer looks down at himself like he only just realized he’s all there.   
  
“No,” he says simply, and shrugs.   
  
“What do you look like?”   
  
“Oh, lots of things,” Lucifer lilts. He pauses for a moment until he’s sure he has Sam’s attention. “...But you, mostly,” his voice is soft and suggestive, and when Sam turns to look at him he meets Sam’s gaze with a devious smirk.   
  
“Oh,” Sam says simply. He doesn’t know what else to say. It makes sense. He doesn’t know why, but in dreams you just know things...and this makes sense.   
  
He feels a little uneasy though, and he frowns as he turns away from the devil at his side and looks back out at the ocean.   
  
There’s a boat there now, in front of them. Dean’s on it, standing out golden and beautiful against the white sails. He’s wearing his soft, worn jeans, holes forming rough and ragged at the knees, and that Metallica t-shirt he always wore in high school that Sam always wished he could wear.   
  
“Sammy!” Dean waves from the deck and smiles. He looks happy.   
  
Sam smiles and waves back. He can see Lucifer wave out of the corner of his eye, and he thinks that’s really nice of him--the devil waving at his brother. He likes it, and he smiles a little to himself.   
  
Dean sails on past, and Sam and Lucifer watch him until he’s a speck against the horizon.   
  
Sam sort of wishes Dean had stayed, but he likes it here on the beach, alone with Lucifer, so it’s okay; they’ll catch up later.   
  
Lucifer shifts next to Sam. He’s closer now than he was before. Sam can feel his body heat against his side.   
  
"Sam," Lucifer says, insistent and soft in his ear.   
  
That voice is different.   
  
Sam frowns, "What."   
  
“Look at me.”   
  
Sam turns, his gaze falling comfortably and immediately on Lucifer...except it isn’t Lucifer anymore.   
  
It’s Sam.   
  
"Wont you say yes?" Lucifer asks. His face--Sam’s face--is careless and happy, beaming and absolutely radiant in the morning light as he smiles at Sam.   
  
"I don't think I should." Sam's voice sounds muddled and far away in his own head, muffled by a deep thrumming through his body, like blood rushing through his veins, or his heartbeat in his ears.   
  
"Why, Sam?” Lucifer steps closer, pressing into Sam’s personal space, his eyes honest and pleading. “We were made for each other,” his voice is soft. “I know you can feel it. I wasn't sure myself until I saw you the first time, but then I knew...I knew we were made for each other,” he presses closer still. “Can you feel it, Sam."   
  
Never a question. He never asks, just presses and tugs until all Sam can feel is Lucifer, around him and inside of him.   
  
He sounds like the ocean.   
  
Sam stares back into his own eyes filled with such warmth and kindness it takes his breath away. He’s never been looked at that way before. If feels nice.   
  
“My father made me, and formed you in my image. We are one, Sam.” He’s close enough now Sam can practically feel Lucifer’s voice as it rumbles deep and husky in his chest. “We rise and fall together,” Lucifer presses himself flush against Sam, his arm snaking around Sam’s waist, pulling him in slow and tight, their hips slotting together perfect and right, because they are one; they are the same. He brushes his lips over Sam’s and whispers into his mouth, “Can you feel it, Sam.”   
  
Sam closes his eyes and smiles, "’I am he, as you are he, as you are me, and we are all together.’" Sam chuckles lazily, blissed out, and he lets his head fall backwards as he goes limp against Lucifer. God he feels good.   
  
Lucifer holds him, pulling him tighter, catching Sam’s head with his other hand as it falls back, his fingers moving through the long strands, gripping them tight and pulling. He’s pressed warm and tight against Sam’s front, breathing hot air against his jaw, dragging his open mouth slowly over Sam’s skin.   
  
“Sam,” he whispers. His breath is hot, and he smells like the ocean, and Dean, and Sam falls into him--let’s Lucifer pull him, wrapping his arm tighter around Sam’s waist, while his hand still tugs at Sam’s hair, pulling his head back to expose the long column of his neck.   
  
This feels weird, Sam thinks--looking at himself, touching himself. But he knows the feel and the smell, and this thing wrapping itself around him right now is him. He doesn’t know how or why, but it is. Because this is a dream, and in your dreams you just know these things. And Sam loves it, loves the feel and the smell of himself, and he needs it, God he needs it.   
  
He gasps and opens his eyes. Pulling his head up and out of Lucifer’s grasp, he meets his own gaze--green and open and honest, pleading, pulling, twisting inside and around until Sam can’t take it anymore. He needs to feel, taste, touch, everything. And this is him, in his arms, so he knows he can. Because in dreams you just know these things.   
  
A jolt of excitement runs through him, and he moans. He leans forward, capturing Lucifer’s mouth--his own mouth--in a desperate kiss, crushing their lips together, setting a rough pace of lips and teeth and tongue, and he sways, loose and pliant against the body pressed against his.   
  
Lucifer remains steady and strong, holding him up, pressing forward, sweeping his tongue over Sam’s lips, and pushing in, insistent and deep and hungry. He groans into Sam’s mouth, it rumbles out from deep in his chest, vibrating through Sam’s entire body, sending a sharp chill up his spine.   
  
Sam moans again, loudly, and surges forward. He can’t get enough. Can’t get enough of the taste and feel of Lucifer, open and possessive against him. The steady rhythm of Lucifer’s tongue fucking into his mouth, steady and sure and desperate. He feels completely and utterly owned...and he fucking loves it.   
  
Sam never wants this to end. It can’t end. He won’t let it. But Lucifer pulls back anyway, leaving Sam gasping for breath.   
  
He looks at Sam, his eyes dark and serious, making Sam desperate to just reach out and pull him back, to lick his way back into the perfect slick heat of Lucifer’s mouth.   
  
Sam shivers when Lucifer speaks and their lips barely brush.   
  
“You will say yes to me, Sam.” His voice is all rust and iron and gravel against Sam’s lips.   
  
Sam’s eyes roll back in his head a little and he nods shallowly.   
  
Lucifer chuckles, a deep dark sound that rumbles through Sam, and he steps back.   
  
Sam makes a small noise in protest and opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything Lucifer lifts his right hand and snaps his fingers--that twisted smirk, still planted firmly on his face, the last thing Sam sees before he jerks awake.   
  
He sits up quickly in his bed. He instantly notes the feel of the scratchy motel sheets tangled around his legs. The hum of the air-conditioner in the window across the room and the smell of stale air instantly assault his senses. He frowns and looks around. The lamp on the nightstand next to him casts a short arc of light across the two beds. It barely illuminates Dean, who’s moving around the room, gathering his belongings and shoving them haphazardly into his bag.   
  
He looks up and sees Sam awake.   
  
“Good, you’re up. Bobby called. We gotta go.” 


End file.
